


Sparkling Wine

by AmyriustrixR0se



Series: Daisies [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard is done with everything, Barduil - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past mpreg, Mpreg, Romance, Thranduil is comforting, magical mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14403303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyriustrixR0se/pseuds/AmyriustrixR0se
Summary: AU :: Bard/Thranduil :: This has to be Thranduil’s doing. Yet again. :: Sequel to Ellinor





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Helllooooo :)
> 
> I just haaaad to continue this AU! I really hope you like it :) And yes, there's more to come!

 

Bard gripped the sides of the washbin as he heaved again. He had had his suspicions throughout the week and now it was confirmed. Thranduil had admitted he would like another child in the future, and Bard had done the horrible thing of agreeing with the elf. But he thought a very long discussion would precede such a thing.

Apparently not.

He could only hope the elf would admit his actions before he lost his temper with the stubbornness of elves.

That night – and after he so conveniently sent the children off – the bowman sat glaring at the door when Thranduil entered. “Meetings keep you tonight?”

The blond stopped walking at the gruff tone. He frowned lightly. “You know they were. As I understand it, Luthiel shows you my schedule for the day.”

Bard narrowed his eyes. “Being funny, are you?”

“What’s the matter?” the Elvenking asked blandly. “Why are you very cross?”

“Don’t you know?” he challenged.

Thranduil pursed his lips and regarded his husband. “I do not. Is it anything the children have done?”

“Funny you should mention children.”

The elf swept his eyes up and down Bard. “You’re not- are you?” But he knew the answer as the man had been acting peculiar the past couple of days. And now he wasn’t sure what direction this talk was headed for the man seemed angry.

“Thought you’d be more pleased to hear that your plan has yet again worked,” Bard informed darkly.

Thranduil’s demeanor grew cold. “ _My_ plan? My ignorant lover, I have made no such plans. That wine has not been touched since that night.”

“Really?” came the sarcastic bite. “Then why have I discovered it in the pantry?”

A pause then, “The pantry?” He gave his husband a meaningful look. “Bard, I swear I haven’t- We spoke about the possibility of more children, but I imagined we’d discuss it in detail. Ellinor is still so young.”

For a split second, Bard wanted to shout into the heavens and curse at Thranduil for doing this to him yet again. But in the next instant, he sagged against the back of the chair – all anger gone. The elf knew nothing of the wine and Bard knew deep down he hadn’t done the crime. He sighed and put his head in his hands.

Thranduil went to his side, showing concern and worry for his husband. He knelt beside the man. “Bard, I swear to you this was not my doing… not in the way you believe.”

Bard felt weak for being angry with his husband, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. “You’re the only one who has access to those vaults.”

The elf didn’t answer because he had no reply. He was the only one of their family to have the key.

After a few moments he tried to be optimistic about the situation – which was very much unlike him but he could see Bard’s disgust and contempt of their current situation. “Ellinor has your curls and your kind grey eyes, love. She’s already taken after Sigrid, as you put it one evening. Calm and quiet. She’ll adjust.

“I mean, I’m not saying I’m overjoyed that we’re having another child – especially this soon, but… perhaps this is the best for us.”

“How can you be alright with this?” Bard choked. He turned his head away. “I am not.”

Comfort had never been his strong point, but he remembered the times when his wife would comfort Legolas and of the times he had seen Bard console his children. “We’ll work this out together. It won’t be a problem-”

The human wanted to throttle the elf suddenly. “Problem? This all won’t be a problem?” He stood in haste and turned his back to Thranduil, fighting and losing his inner battle at not shouting at his lover. “Thranduil, I don’t think you understand what has happened. I didn’t agree to this. I didn’t agree to have Ellinor in the first place! What makes you think that this all won’t be a problem when I don’t even want this child!”

It pained the elf to hear the bowman’s words. He sighed and tried to get his husband to reason. “Bard, I know this will be a terribly stupid question, but do you not love our daughter? I know I was selfish at that party… I know I should have warned you what you were drinking but I believe it was worth it.” He gently grasped the others tense shoulders. “I also know it was a difficult transition back to your previous build but-”

Bard growled. “Of course I love her.” He winced inwardly – he was already hormonal.

Outside their parents’ bedroom, Sigrid frowned at her sister who was standing very still, apparently listening in at the door. “What are you doing?”

“Shh,” the other shushed. She pressed her ear closer.

Sigrid rolled her eyes but joined and listened. She looked to Tilda, worry suddenly in her eyes. “They’re fighting.”

Tilda nodded but didn’t stand straight.

She reached forward and tried to console her little sister. She feared Tilda would start to worry over nothing. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, Tilda. A little disagreement is all-”

“Da cursed at Thranduil,” she said. “He sounded really angry.”

At that, she heard her Da raise his voice and that is when she could make out their words.

_“I don’t think you understand what has happened. I didn’t agree to this. I didn’t agree to have Ellinor in the first place! What makes you think that this all won’t be a problem when I don’t even want this child?”_

_“Bard, I know this will be a terribly stupid question, but do you not love our daughter?” Ada’s voice had gone soft and she couldn’t hear his words but she heard the soothing lull of his voice._

_“Of course I love her,” her father bit._

Another child? What? And Da to not love Ellinor? What were they-

The older girl straightened suddenly and glared at Tilda. “What did you _do_?”

She looked back hesitantly and gave a bit of a really nervous shrug. “It was an accident.”

The chamber door opened and Tilda and Sigrid jumped back with a gasp. Thranduil stepped through and frowned. Bard would be even more upset if he knew his children heard their argument. “Sigrid. Tilda. How much of what did you hear?”

Sigrid turned to Tilda and gave her a prompting look. Thranduil did the same for the little girl always had an answer for everything.

And for the first time in her life, Tilda had no words. She looked down at her feet.

 _Well,_ Thranduil opened the door again. “Bard, I do believe I have found the answer to our _slight_ problem.”

Tilda swallowed nervously as the footsteps of her father approached. She knew he was cross and now, she wanted more than ever to run from home and hide.

“What?” He stepped out into the corridor. He looked to Thranduil before his eyes settled on his youngest daughter. Both a weight was lifted from him and settled again in the pit of his stomach.

“Tilda,” he breathed knowingly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tilda faces the consequences of her actions OR Bard regrets his choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *one month later*  
> *waves* Hi there xD I had school so that's why it took me so long
> 
> But here you go!

 

Tilda grew anxious as her father paced the room. She wrung her hands and grew very afraid of being on the end of her father’s ire – only ever seen him angry a few times. He let out a harsh sigh and she flinched.

“Tilda,” his voice was strained. He was drowning in worries and all possibilities of what was ahead in the many, many months to come. This… this should not even be happening. “Why on earth have you done such a thing? Why-”

She gave a small and weak shrug. “I don’t…” But her voice was too soft for him to hear.

“Another babe, Tilda. Really?” He couldn’t help the disappointment in his voice come through. He thought he raised her better than to be so immature. “This… this babe is a big responsibility. And with Ellinor so young- Tilda… You clearly did not think this through- In fact, you didn’t think at all!”

She looked down at her feet. Her bottom lip wobbled a bit but she fought against it.

Bard stopped pacing but turned away from her. He couldn’t look at her. He was struggling enough to form words… nice words, words that wouldn’t send her running into the forest to hide forever. “How did you even get your hands on the wine anyway?” he growled.

She looked down at her shoes. “Linyr-”

“Linyr doesn’t have a key,” he interrupted.

“Ada was busy and gave him the keys to get a bottle for the celebration,” she said. “He handed me the keys since his arms were full. I remembered what it looked like because-” She cut herself off. Ada had shown her the bottle, but Da was angry with Ada. She didn’t want to be responsible for a huge fight.

“Because?” he pressed.

She fidgeted. “… I saw it while with Ada…”

He folded his arms. “What are you talking about? Did Ada show you?”

She shook her head, probably a little too quickly.

He gave a sigh and rubbed his temple. “Well, don’t speak a word of this to Ada. You rather like Linyr. I’d hate to see him take the fall for your mistake.”

_Mistake._ Da really didn’t want this child. The lump in her throat grew painful but she tried to fight it.

“And as for the bottle…” He grunted then heaved out another sigh, shaking his head. “I’ll have to speak with Elidyn about this whole thing,” he muttered to himself.

_Elidyn was the best healer in the realm_. And with the way her da was pacing, Tilda’s insides squeezed. _There was only one thing Elidyn was absolutely needed for…_

He turned around, his back to her again. “I didn’t raise you this way, Tilda. Selfish, thoughtless. Reckless was one thing – enough, actually.”

She winced.

“I’ve never been more disappointed in you,” he shook his head. “I don’t think you’re capable of understanding what you’ve done.”

The lump in her throat was unbearable.

It started off as a small hiccup. She tried to hide her face, muffle her sob, but his disappointed heavy sigh broke her barriers. The sob bubbled up in her chest and came out suddenly.

Bard turned around and his heart dropped as he realized what his careless words and awful attitude had done. “Tilda…”

She cried at hearing her name and her shoulders drew in.

He went to her, hoping he could console her. His heart broke at the step backwards she took. He knelt beside her and held out his hand. “Tilda? Sweetheart, don’t cry. Don’t. It’s… it’s alright.”

But she shook her head fiercely and wiped at her eyes. “No, it’s not, Da.”

He reached for her hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckle. “Tilda-”

“You hate me, don’t you?” she cried, trying to tug her hand out of his grasp.

His features turned devastated – he hadn’t been paying attention to how he had spoken to her and now he was paying the price. “No, my darling, I don’t hate you. Tilda, I could never hate you-”

“I- *hiccup* -I heard you *hiccup* tell Ada you don’t- that you don’t love- *hiccup* don’t love this child and that you want to- want to- want it gone.”

“Tilda-”

“This- this is all my fault. I- *hiccup* I’m so sorry. I thought- I thought *hiccup* Ellie’s so cute- I *hiccup* I didn’t think, Da-” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

He ducked his head to look at her face. “No, you didn’t,” he agreed softly. “But that doesn’t give me the right to lose my temper. I shouldn’t have. With you and Ada.” He gently grasped her wrists and brought her hands away from her red face. He looked into her eyes. “Darling, hear me please. I truly did not expect this to happen again so soon, without a proper discussion. You must see where my anger is from…”

Her bottom lip wobbled and fresh tears started to gather in her eyes. She looked down at her feet.

“It’s no excuse but- Tilda, look at me.”

She obeyed and lifted her eyes to his – her big and sad and tearful eyes.

“I _love_ you,” he said. “And I love this… this new babe.” Saying the words made this all a bit more real and a bit more terrifying once again. He squeezed her hands and brushed away her falling tears, but he couldn’t help the regret and disappointment in his face. “What’s done is done, alright?”

She nodded vaguely but hiccupped again.

He sighed. “Tilda, listen to me, you are never allowed in the cellars. You hear me?”

She made a soft noise.

“Tilda?” he prompted.

“Yes, Da,” she nodded. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

He let out a sigh of relief and kissed her head.

//

Later that night, after supper, after every wild thing that happened in the hours before, Thranduil joined his husband in the common room where the human was watching their children play with Ellinor. His mouth curved upward vaguely when Bard twined their fingers – it seemed everything about their previous argument was forgiven.

Ellinor squealed happily at the feather tickling her cheek. She reached forward and grasped for the feather, instead reaching Sigrid’s fingers. Bain kissed her chubby cheek. Tilda rolled over on her back and made an exaggerated oof noise when Ellinor clambered on her stomach.

The elf smirked, “Your children,” he said with both annoyance and love.

Bard nodded in agreement. “Indeed.”

“Tilda hopes for a boy,” he told the man.

“That girl,” he chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Tilda! Bard just took over, I tried to stop him! :'(


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And life of the royal family continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning: implications of abortion in this chapter

 

“It’s seated then?” Bard realized he vaguely sounded disappointed. He didn’t look at the healer.

Elidyn frowned in confusion. The King’s consort had always been the level-headed optimistic of the two. “Yes…” He turned his back on the bowman and glanced at the shelves of herbs. “If you do not wish to carry it, there are herbs-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Bard replied quickly, his voice gruff and short. He didn’t want to speak about it.

The good healer glanced at him and it only took a glance to see Bard’s true feelings. “Are you sure?”

Bard grew disgusted with himself at how well Elidyn read him… though at the moment, he wasn’t the best at concealing his thoughts.

The healer moved to the table and fished around in  the drawers.

Bard’s stomach twisted. “No, no. That wasn’t what I was implying. I-”

But the elf handed him the familiar pouch nonetheless. “If you wish, brew these for ten minutes long. I’d recommend you take these in private for the outcome-”

“Yes, yes, alright. Thank you,” he quickly brushed off. He left the infirmary then.

He walked the winding halls, returning to his quarters as John – the man who fought beside him during the Battle – covered matters in Dale. He could retire for the rest of the day even though he knew he needed something to distract him from thinking about the decision he needed to make. He grew lost in his own world, lost in the thoughts about the herbs. His mind wandered to Ellinor, to Tilda… to this new babe-

An arm snaked around his middle and pulled him close, it’s owner chuckling at the surprised gasp. “My bowman, it is unlike you to be lost in your thoughts,” Thranduil mused in his ear.

The man smirked lightly at the elf’s sneakiness. “And it’s not like you to show your affection in public.” He kissed the pale cheek beside him. “What have you done?”

Thranduil pulled away. “Nothing at all, my human. Why are you always convinced I have done something wrong?”

Bard turned, not objecting when Thranduil pressed him against the wall. “Because you are an Elf.”

The elf smirked and trailed a finger down the side of Bard’s face. “And what of you, Dragonslayer? Not so innocent as you lead everyone to believe.”

He snorted and snaked his arm up and cupped the back of Thranduil’s neck, pulling the elf in for a proper kiss. “It seems you couldn’t wait until I was inside our chambers,” he scolded lightly.

“I am not done with meetings today,” Thranduil countered, his words reverberating through Bard’s body. “I have to leave soon.”

“That still doesn’t explain _why_ you couldn’t _wait_ ,” he chuckled.

Thranduil’s lips collided with his again, sparking a dull fire in the pit of Bard’s belly. “Perhaps it is because you know how enticing I find you when you’re carrying my heir,” he smirked. His mouth found the human’s neck and his pulse point.

Bard stiffened at his lover’s words. They were true but the news was still a bitter taste in his mouth.

The elf noticed. “What’s wrong? Are still not-”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he brushed off. He reached to resume their kisses but the elf pulled back. “Thrand-”

The Elvenking’s hands – which had been roaming the bowman’s body during their little session – held a small pouch. Bard watched his husband’s face and the man could see the disappointment and disbelief clear as day in his eyes. “What is this?” he asked after gathering his thoughts.

Bard had a choice but his choices as of late were not the very best. He snatched them from him, a cold demeanor washing over him, no longer the warm seduction he had been emanating. “Nothing. Though you know very well what they are.” He glared at Thranduil, daring the elf to speak.

But the elf’s face didn’t change. “Are you truly thinking of it?”

“Would you be upset with me if I did?”

He gave Bard a grave look but shook his head. “No, it is your choice completely. But what of the children? What of Tilda? It’ll break her heart.”

In truth, he hadn’t thought of his children. He hadn’t thought of her. But he wasn’t ready to do this again. Hell, he hadn’t been ready in the first place.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’ve had these herbs in your possession before.”

Bard looked away suddenly. His voice turned weak, “Thrand-”

Then something came into the elf’s mind. “You’re not ill, are you? The sadness spell after one has a child? I should have noticed, seen the signs quicker.”

“No, I am not ill. I-”

“Your Majesties,” Luthiel interrupted ever so politely. He bowed when the two noticed him. “I apologize but there’s been an accident in the courtyard.”

Thranduil straightened and looked at his subject curiously. “Any injuries?”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded. “If Your Majesty and his Consort follow, I will explain it.”

Bard griped. “ _His_ Consort. I have my own name.”

“Now is the time to be touchy, Bard. Luthiel, lead us to what you deem important,” he said.

The elf bowed again and started down the hallway, and it took both elf and man to realize they were being led to the infirmary. “As I said, an accident in the courtyard. The repair to the tallest pillar was underway when the two wagons collided-”

“Wagons? Wagons aren’t to be on the grounds until this weekend for the trade,” Bard voiced. He glared at Thranduil whose face remained emotionless. The human cleared his throat, “Sorry, right, continue.”

“One wagon was stationary, the other lost control of the horse. The rafters were knocked and the repairs were lost, and those working fell. No one has died but there are severe injuries.”

“Why are both of us needed?” Thranduil asked.

Bard’s heart clenched at Luthiel’s lack of reply. He followed the two elves into the infirmary where a great many cots were occupied – a stark contrast from just an hour before when he had seen Elidyn.

“King Thranduil, sir!” And soon the wide-eyed, scared face of Linyr stood in front of them. “Consort Bard, I-I- I didn’t see in time. She-”

The man moved around the elf and stopped short at the annoyed young teen sitting on the cot, clearly done with being checked and double-checked and triple-checked by the healer. He watched Elidyn’s apprentice, Feyra, bandage a cut on her leg.

Tilda noticed him. “Da!” she smiled, her annoyance gone at once.

He cracked a smile and she hugged him tightly. “How are you?” he asked, pulling back to take a good look at her.

She shrugged. “Just a little scratch, Da, I’m fine.”

He looked to Feyra.

“She’s got a tender ankle, a few scrapes, and a slight head injury, but other than that, she’s fine,” the healer smiled. “Excuse me, Your Majesty, I must see other patients.”

“Of course,” he thanked. He looked at his daughter again. “Out on runs with Linyr?”

“Well, we had to come back to get more,” she nodded. Then her eyes went wide just like Linyr’s. “Oh, Da, you’re not gonna punish him, are you? It wasn’t his fault! He didn’t see the wild horse-”

Bard chuckled, “No, no. Linyr is not going to be punished. But you are to return to the chambers and rest for the remainder of the week.”

“Week?!” she squeaked. “But I promised-”

He tapped her temple where a purple bruise sat and she winced. “The rest of the week. And not a moment sooner.” He held out his hand to her. “Come.”

She pouted but jumped off the table, barely remembering her ankle until the last second. She stumbled a bit but her ankle was fine. Bard caught her upper arm and gave her a disapproving look. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Thranduil climbed the steps to the tower – on the other side of the realm – where his husband had gone many nights to think, and tonight was no different. “How is she?” he asked when he saw the familiar outline of his bowman against the moonlight.

“Stubborn,” he chuckled. He leaned on the rail of the balcony, looking out on the peaceful forest.

“Ah,” the elf mused. He came to stand beside the human. “Just like you.”

Bard elbowed him. “Yes, well, you’re stubborn too.”

Thranduil smiled a bit then grew silent. He knew Bard knew he wanted to know about the herbs. He just didn’t want to drive his husband away with bringing it up-

“I am not,” he said quietly.

The elf waited.

Bard sighed and shook his head. “I returned the herbs to Elidyn. I- I am going to have a child.” He stiffened for a moment at Thranduil’s soft touch to the side of his face, then he relaxed. “Are you happy?”

“Only if you are, my love,” he said.

Bard swallowed the lump in his throat but tears formed in his eyes nonetheless. “Must you always have the right words?” he whimpered, trying not to cry but really failing. He too was happy, he shouldn’t be crying-

Thranduil pulled him against his chest, chuckling quietly. “I fear this time around your emotions are not going to be spared,” he chuckled.

The bowman laughed but cried into the elf’s clothes. “I think you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fiction. I apologize if I have offended anyone's beliefs about abortion. It was not my intention.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Month 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //A month later >> Hello!
> 
> So, my plan for this is to sorta make each chapter about each month of Bard’s pregnancy, at least a part of the month that stood out for Bard 
> 
> Don’t worry, I won’t wait another month to post the next chapter xD

 

She stared out the window of her father’s study. They were in Dale and apparently she couldn’t be trusted to stay put alone in the Woodland Realm so she had been volunteered to join her da with his work in the town. She giggled when she spotted Bain trailing Da’s best advisor with an armful of sticks.

“Da,” she started out curiously as she watched her brother. “When can I start training with the Captain’s Guard?”

He didn’t take his eyes off his paper. “Whenever you’re ready, my darling. We haven’t offered because you’ve been busy with Linyr and helping Freya with sick children.”

She hummed. “But if I start with the Captain’s Guard, can I still help them?”

“Yes,” he smiled, glancing up. “It’ll be a little tough in the beginning, but you’ll be able to. I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.”

She giggled and looked back out the window. And she sat there for another few minutes before gasping and jumping off the sofa. “Da!” she grinned, hopping over to his desk like she just had the greatest epiphany. “Has- has the babe kicked yet? I always like it when Ellinor kicked. I mean- she always knew when it was me.”

“Yes, she did,” he chuckled then his smile turned to a slight frown as she kept hopping. “The babe hasn’t kicked yet, but you are making me nervous. Sit.” He pushed a spare chair to her.

She didn’t sit but hopped around to his side and plopped on the desk, on his papers.

He put down his quill and folded his hands – he could use a break anyway. “Yes, my dear?”

“How much longer do I have to stay here?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean… not out on your ice-lolly runs?”

“Yes, yes!” she nodded. “Oh, I miss being there! I miss- See, there are these little boys here in town that always get a lolly from me. They don’t like Linyr much – they say he’s scary because of his pointy ears. But I always give them some even though they can’t afford to pay.” She tried to give her father her best impression of a poor puppy-dog look and maybe that would let her leave sooner. “And Linyr told me they miss me.”

He chuckled and leaned back in his seat. “So, that’s where your allowance is running off to. You’re allowed to go when you can walk on two feet.”

She tsked and jumped off the desk, making Bard tense. “Daaaaaaaa….”

“Tildaaaaaaaa,” he matched. He returned to his work… well almost. He kept watching her in the corner of his eye. And he continued to keep his eye on her even when there was a knock on the door.

“Enter,” he called.

Bard’s best advisor, as Tilda mentioned earlier, stepped in and gave a nod to both. “Ah, Your Majesty, Miss Tilda.”

“Jon,” Bard smiled. “How goes the inspection?”

The other man let out a sigh. “I fear this venture with the dwarves may need to be extended a few more hundred pounds. But I shall look again tomorrow. I hope my eyes have deceived me in what I saw.”

Bard nodded. “Let us hope that. Those dwarves have enough trouble of parting from their riches with the amount we’ve asked. I fear asking for more they will leave us on our own.”

“Bain has the order of quills-” Jon turned to the space Bain usually occupied when he was shadowing the man, but the boy was not there. He poked his head out the door and saw the boy barely making it up the steps at the end of the hall – a airy and dazed look to him.

The bowman raised a curious eyebrow when Jon turned around.

Jon chuckled. “Your son is in love, Bard. He’s been distracted by the very thought of this girl – the poor boy ran into a pillar.”

At that, Bain stepped into the room and Bard could see that there wasn’t something quite right about him. He looked as if his mind were elsewhere, planning on meeting and/or impressing said girl.

“Bain,” he called. But the boy didn’t hear… nor did he hear at the second call… or the fifth. “Bain!” he snapped and the young man started, accidentally tossing up the box of quills

 “Yes, sir!” He cleared his throat. “I mean… yes, sir?”

Bard tried not to smile. “How were your lessons today? Learn a lot from Jon?”

Bain swallowed heavily but nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. Very well, sir. I learned a lot.”

His father nodded, light mirth in his eyes. “You may leave the quills, and you may go home.”

Bain matched the nod although a bit more eagerly. “Yes, thank you, Da!”

Jon gave Bard a sideways glance as the boy was out of the room in a flurry. “The Ferryday’s girl, Amy,” he said with a sure nod.

Bard chuckled.

Jon turned to the young girl sitting on the sofa. “And how are you faring, Miss Tilda? Your ankle doing better?”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, thank you! I can’t wait to get out of here actually,” she said with a kind but wide smile while giving her father a kind but serious glare.

“When you can walk on two feet, Tilda,” he reminded her.

“Well, I best be off,” Jon said then. “Goodnight, Bard, Miss Tilda.”

“Goodnight, Jon,” the bowman bid. “Thank you for the reports.”

The man nodded once more before closing the door behind him.

After a few moments, Tilda frowned in confusion. “I thought Dale was rebuilt. There’s more to be done?” She hopped to his desk again as if his answer required her to be standing right next to him.

“Yes, my dear, there is. We’ve done underground repair already. Now we need to do fix up the buildings.”

Her eyes lit up at that. “Ooh, the pretty work?”

“The pretty work,” he confirmed. He pushed a chair to her. “Sit, please.”

She hopped to the chair but didn’t sit. “But Daaaaaa,” she complained. Then she scrunched her nose. “You’ve gone all mother hen since this all started.”

“Since you were involved in that accident and broke your ankle, yes, I should be all mother hen. Your Ada is too stiff to be bothered with these emotions. Someone has to do it.”

“Sprained it, Da. I didn’t break it,” she reminded him sweetly.

He snorted. “Well, you’re going to break it if you’re not careful.”

She rolled her eyes and hopped behind his chair.

He set down the papers again with a tired sigh. “The rug, Tilda. You will fall and _break_ your ankle-” He turned around and caught her upper arm as she slipped. “What did I just say?” He gave her a stern look. “Sit.”

“Da,” she complained but did sit with a fierce pout.

He sat at his desk again and glanced out the window – the sun was low in the sky and it would start to set soon. Sigrid would be by soon with Ellinor, returning her little sister with her father before she headed out to the clump of trees between Erebor and Dale…

Fili the Dwarf had requested Bard’s presence earlier that month, and as irritable as Bard had been feeling due to both morning sickness and having a twisted feeling in his gut at the sight of his oldest and this dwarf holding hands, he had sat there quietly, patiently, and listened to the dwarf.

He knew the dwarf was not his uncle Thorin Oakenshield. He had seen the dwarf fight well on the battlefield and he knew the dwarf was capable of fierce protection – Kili, his brother, was proof. It might have been the dull pain in his back that led him to temporarily approve their courtship – he had just wanted to go home and drink some of that tea Elidyn gave him.

Sigrid had begged him that night to give Fili a chance. He had been less irritable after the pain in his back went away with the tea, but he was still wary of the dwarf. So she sat there, telling him of how they met and what she felt for Fili.

_“It was shortly after Thorin Oakenshield agreed to open Erebor’s borders. He was with the caravan, traveling the lands, in search of lost kin. We started talking. I got to know him and he me. Oh, Da, he’s so kind and polite and I know he cares for me as you did Ma.” She grasped his free hand – the hand that wasn’t holding onto the teacup like a lifeline. “Da, he’s a good man. Please.”_

_He pursed his lips. “Why not ask Ada?”_

_She kissed his knuckle and smiled a bit sadly. “I’ve been your little girl longer than he. There’s no man I trust more.”_

_Why did he have to ask?_

_He nodded his approval and cleared his throat. He wasn’t going to cry. Hormones would not win today! No sir! He would not be controlled by- Her eyes were glistening with tears of happiness. Didn’t she know the rule? If she cried, so would he?_

He did cry, and pretty much wasn’t able to stop all night. Then he sent Thranduil to the kitchens for a late night craving.

He blinked out of his reverie when Tilda bounded – or rather, hobbled to the door at the timid knock and she gasped in surprise at the brown-haired, pointy-eared, grey-eyed little girl. “Ellie!” she squealed cutely making her sister’s pudgy cheeks dimple.

Ellinor reached for her but even more so reached for her da who came to greet his eldest. Tilda pouted as the little girl dismissed her and Bard chuckled.

“That’s no fair, Ellie,” she teased. “Playing favorites.”

He grinned as the eleven-month-old wrapped her little arms around his neck and played with his hair. She smooshed his cheek with a wet kiss.

Sigrid fidgeted with her dress, looking quite shy.

He nodded to her. “You may go. Be back before it gets too dark.”

“Thanks, Da,” she said before closing the door.

“Ooh, Sigrid-y and Fili sittin’ in a tree!” Tilda sang cute-ly to Ellinor.

She laughed lightly at the tickle to her tummy but she preferred to stay right where she was – her head tucked under her father’s chin.

“Let’s go home,” he said, sensing how tired the two – okay, all three of them – were. He felt light flutters within him, much like the ones he felt with Ellinor some weeks before she kicked.

Okay, all four of them were tired.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bowman’s life just keeps getting better and better… as said in a sarcastic tone. Thranduil fears his own hair will turn completely silver faster than the human’s.

 

Thranduil sighed heavily and ran his finger along Bard’s jawline as the bowman sat weakly beside the washbin. “I’m sorry.”

Bard shook his head and tried to give the elf a reassuring smile. “I’m alright.”

He pursed his lips. “I’ll make you a draught for your sickness before I leave. But you are to rest today. I’ll also send word to Jon that you’ll not travel to Dale.”

“Thrand, I can make the journey-” he managed out in an incredulous chuckle. “You’re being too overprotective-”

The elf sent him a glare. “No, you look very ill. I’d rather you be ill here and not out.”

But Bard wouldn’t let go so easily. “I’ll be fine.” He struggled to stand. “See, I feel better already.”

Thranduil watched him sway for a moment before helping him to the bedroom. “You will listen to me, and you will stay home. You will lie down. You will rest. And you will drink the morning sickness draught.”

“Thranduil,” he said sternly. “You are-”

The blond watched his husband turn a bit green. “I am?”

He held up a finger and moved around him and back into the washroom.

“I’ll leave the draught on the bedside table,” Thranduil announced before leaving the room. And he returned ten minutes later with the vial while all signs of the bowman were still nowhere to be seen. He sighed and knocked on the doorframe of the adjoining washroom. “Are you alright?”

Bard was lying quite pathetically on the cold stone floor. “I’m fine,” he muttered tiredly. “I hate you.”

“Understandable,” the elf mused. He stepped over him and gripped his upper arm. “Come, I will see to it that you are well again.”

“What about your- *burp* meeting?”

“They can afford to wait a few extra minutes. Besides, they cannot start without the king,” he replied. He handed Bard the vial and helped him into bed. “Now, rest. I will be back later to see how you are.”

Ten hours later – or ten hours into the most grueling meeting Thranduil’s ever been in…

The elf looked up at the guard opening the doors. His blood ran cold and his heart dropped when a healer stepped in. His people knew he was not to be bothered unless it was an emergency – especially during a meeting with a very important diplomat. He stood without realizing, already beginning to fear the worst had happened to Bard or the children. He began to think his husband’s morning sickness hadn’t been such.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. There are matters that require my attention,” he said distractedly.

The very important person in the room scoffed after the elf. “More important than what we are discussing here?”

A council member sitting across from the arrogant human spoke up as Thranduil was long out the door. “King Thranduil’s consort is with child. It is only natural that he take caution that no complications have happened.”

Others who knew of the consort’s condition glared at the man who cleared his throat and looked very sorry he had spoken.

The Elvenking ran into Elidyn before reaching the chambers. “What happened? Is he alright?”

The healer gave half of a nod and led him into the common room. Thranduil noticed the steaming sleeping draught sitting on the table, waiting to be served to its victim. “Master Bain has taken a fall,” he finally revealed.

Thranduil frowned. There was obviously more to this story.

“He’s broken his arm and Consort Bard has been stubborn in not resting for the babe. I fear he will push himself to exhaustion soon enough. I have pleaded with him – as has his advisor Jon – to take the sleeping draught and lie down. He is adamant he will not leave their sides.” He looked unamused at the human’s choices. “I instructed that you were called to administer the draught.”

The elf gave a brief hum then sighed. “Alright, where is he?”

Elidyn motioned for the king to follow him.

But Thranduil stopped walking. “Wait, did you say ‘their sides’? Who else- who else is injured?”

The healer winced and Freya spoke. “Linyr’s sister has returned and.. well, it’s rumored her and Tilda had a little run-in.”

“I’m not in the mood for riddles. What happened?”

“She sprained her ankle again,” she sighed.

He rubbed his temple. “This day just keeps getting better and better. Fetch me the draught.”

“I am not taking it, Thrand,” the human spoke from the two’s bedsides. “Don’t you dare.”

Freya returned with a mugful of purple potion.

The Elvenking neared his husband and the human had the good graces to look ready for a scolding. But Thranduil’s voice remained even and calm. “I will not allow you to continue fretting over your stubborn spawn. They are resilient and tough – they do not need you to be at their bedside day and night.”

Bard opened his mouth to argue but Thranduil held up his hand.

“You need your rest,” he sighed. “The babe needs you to rest.” He reached across and rested his palm on the slight swell of his belly, lightly smiling when their child thumped his hand.

Bard let out a tired sigh and gave a small nod. “Alright. I’ll take it.” He took Thranduil’s offered hand and let the elf lead him to their bedroom. He watched the elf close the door behind them, but he couldn’t help but eye the mug in his hand.

Thranduil set down the mug before going to his husband and helping him out of his clothes and into a large tunic. He hesitated but kneaded the bowman’s shoulders comfortingly and sat him down on the bed. “You went against my wishes this morning,” he said. “I told you I wanted you to stay here, and yet you went to Dale.” He handed him the mug.

Bard drank obediently and lied down. “I had to, Thrand. I felt useless lying around here when I knew I’d be perfectly fine.”

Thranduil pursed his lips and glared at him.

“Did they really interrupt your meeting with the man from Osgiliath?”

He sighed again. “Yes. And I’m grateful they did.” He kissed Bard’s forehead then his lips. “Rest. I will be back later. And I am not letting you off so easily.”

“Of course, you aren’t,” Bard smiled.

Thranduil stepped out of the room and caught Jon on his way out. “How did Bain break his arm?” he asked. “I know you were there. That is the only reason why you are here.”

“He was spying on Amy Ferryday,” he smiled. Then after brief silence, his smile faded. “Bard and I saw him fall and from where stood at the tower, it was clear to see he wasn’t alright. We went to him as quick as we could. I carried him to the wagon and stayed with them on the road here.”

“I’m surprised he made the journey from Dale,” the elf noted. “Bard didn’t seek a healer in town?”

Jon looked hesitant. “He did, but I insisted we bring him back.”

Thranduil regarded him. “I wouldn’t have objected to a human healer, especially in that sort of emergency.”

The human nodded. “My apologies, Your Majesty. Then it is my fault the boy is in so much pain now.” He bowed to the elf and took his leave.

“Do not blame yourself for the boy’s pain. It was his own choosing to do what he did,” Thranduil said.

Jon nodded again and closed the door behind him.

Damn his own husband, Thranduil mused. That human’s made him a kinder elf.

The next morning, Bard sat between the two beds watching both Bain and Tilda sleep. He looked up at the timid knock and Sigrid stepped in.

She handed him a cup of tea – normal tea… though Thranduil had instructed her to only give him the sleeping draught if he grew too stubborn.

He took it and watched her sit on Tilda’s bedside. “Do not let anything happen to yourself. I do not know what I would do if you ended up hurt as well.”

She smiled shyly and nodded. “I won’t, Da. I promise.”

Bain shifted – coming to from his deep sleep. He hummed as he traveled toward reality again. “Hm, Amy…”

Bard snorted, “Amy Ferryday.”

Hearing her name seemed to wake him completely from his slumber. His face was soon shaped with a goofy smile. “A right beauty she is Da,” he sighed – totally lovesick with the girl.

Bard nudged the bed. “Hush, you’re supposed to be resting.”

“How- how can I rest when she is so beautiful?” he complained. He sat up a bit then winced as he accidentally put weight on his arm.

His father jerked forward at the small noise that left his son’s mouth but managed to calm himself. But he didn’t sit back in his seat. “She’ll still be beautiful when you can move your arm again.”

Tilda shifted – also brought to life – and sat up, dangling her legs off the bed.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. “I’m not scraping you off the floor when you fall.”

“Who says I’ll fall?” she challenged with a wide grin.

“ _Tilda_.” Geez, this girl was going to give him a splitting headache.

“Listen to your father,” Thranduil spoke sternly.

Bard glanced over his shoulder and smiled softly at the elf. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He pulled up a chair beside Bard’s, taking his husband’s hand in his. Then he looked at Tilda, “Could you tell me exactly what happened? I’m getting another side of the story from Linyr’s sister.”

She folded her arms across her chest and huffed. “What does _she_ say?”

“Tell me what happened and I’ll tell you,” he said.

She pouted, “I was better! My ankle was fine- well, Freya didn’t exactly say that when I saw her but I wanted to tell Linyr that I was almost healed and then this rude woman stopped me from going to him. She pushed me! She pushed me and I fell and.. twisted my ankle again.”

Bard exhaled tiredly. “Who is this woman?”

“A mean old hag-“

“Language,” Thranduil scolded. He shook his head. “She’s no one. Linyr’s sister. She’s to be leaving soon. She’s not supposed to be in the realm anyway… that is not the point.”

“Not the point, Ada?” Tilda scoffed. “She _pushed_ me! She said Linyr couldn’t possibly care about a stupid little girl like me!”

Bard raised an eyebrow and looked to his husband. “This woman is no one?”

Thranduil looked tired. “The matter is being solved.”

“I’m sure it is,” the young girl huffed.

 

* * *

 

Later that day - and totally unplanned, Sigrid stopped short just behind her elven father’s open study door. She didn’t mean to but there was more than one person inside and she couldn’t just pass by and make them think she was going to tell anyone of their conversation. She listened to the argument inside.

“You were allowed never to return,” Thranduil said sternly. “Yet you are here.”

“Father-” Legolas warned.

Thranduil sighed… or groaned. “By the wishes of my son, I am allowing you to stay for what business-”

“I need him,” she interrupted.

Sigrid winced at Thranduil’s cold chuckle – he sounded angry. “He offers more here than he could with you in exile.”

“He’s my brother,” she stated as if those words granted her permission to take the elf from the Woodland Realm and into the wild.

The Elvenking would not back down so easily. “He has loyalties here.”

“That twit of girl?” she scoffed like the human girl was so beneath her in status. Sigrid could practically hear the elf fold her arms.

“Tauriel,” Legolas scolded sharply and Sigrid could tell he was frowning.

“What? You’re on his side?” There was a pause and Sigrid knew Legolas was giving her a fierce glare. Then the she-elf scoffed again and tried to blame the young girl, “She is a human! What? We have opened our borders to those selfish creatures-”

“Tauriel, that’s enough,” Legolas cut in. “Let’s leave. You’ve stirred enough trouble already. Linyr’s place is here.”

Sigrid heard a scuffle and footsteps as if this Tauriel was putting up a fight. Then Thranduil growled suddenly like he had had enough of this argument, “She is my Consort’s daughter.”

The young woman stepped back as the door was flung open. She realized she was about to be caught. She held her breath but met Legolas’ eyes. She let out the breath as he led Tauriel in the opposite direction, never allowing the she-elf to turn around. She gave a small smile.

“Sigrid.”

She jumped at the Elvenking- uh, her ada’s voice. “Ada.”

Thranduil’s eyes turned concerned. “Everything alright with your father?”

She nodded.

“Tilda? Bain?”

She nodded again. “They’re fine. I- I was just passing and I- I might have…”

He chuckled and closed his study door. “It was nothing. I don’t believe Tauriel will cause any more trouble. Do not be concerned with the matter.” He paused a moment before saying, “Don’t tell your sister anything about this. You know how she is.”

She smiled. “Yes, I do. And I won’t say anything.”

“Say anything about what?” Tilda asked, snacking on an ice lolly while balancing on one foot.

“Tilda!” her older sister scolded. “Da must be worried sick not knowing where you are!” She snatched the lolly from her. “Come, we’re going back-”

“Da sent me out,” she argued, struggling in Sigrid’s grip on her upper arm.

“I doubt that,” Thranduil said, vaguely amused. He looked to Sigrid, “Take her to the chambers.”

She nodded and pulled her sister away, scolding every bit of the way there. “Why can’t you stay put? Why must you always look for trouble? Da isn’t going to be very happy when we return. Don’t look at me with your puppy-eyes. Don’t do that! It won’t work, Tilda. Not- not this time….” Then she groaned. “Fine, if Da asks, I thought it was okay to take you out for a hop-”

Her little sister elbowed her ribs.

She laughed, “-walk, okay. And that I should have asked.”

“Thanks!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m going a bit AU here :) but this new thing doesn’t have an effect on the plotline… or what little of a major plotline this story has, it’s more of a timeline really. Anyway, I made Tauriel Linyr’s sister. She was still banished from the Woodland Realm for the same reason she was in the films but the only difference is that she never stopped in Lake-town and met Bard and his family. Kili’s still alive, I assure you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of his sixth month of this unexpected pregnancy, Bard realizes things are very different than the last time he went through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Just a bit of warning for this chapter >> Ahead, we have some sexy stuff towards the end... aka sex or in this case, half sex :)  
> Enjoy!

 

The human watched his husband hurriedly dress and mutter things to himself. “Thrand.”

“Hm?”

“Will you be home at a decent hour tonight?”

Thranduil threw on his cloak and didn’t seem to hear Bard’s words. He was halfway out the bedroom door when he remembered the man still in bed. “What?” he asked, coming to the bedside and kissing the human… still distracted by pressing matters and his thoughts too much to see the discomfort his lover was in. “I didn’t hear you.”

Bard attempted to catch the small – and barely visible – braid in Thranduil’s hair. “I can see that.” His fingers found it but Thranduil had moved out of his reach before he had a chance to grasp it. “I asked for you not to be out late again.”

The elf frowned for a moment, trying to think what his husband meant… then he remembered. He had been quite late to their bedroom for the past two weeks due to unavoidable meetings with the council and loooooong arguments with Tauriel and Legolas and Linyr. He nodded, “Right, I shall try, my love. Rest now. You look weary.”

He hummed in agreement. “Your child keeps me in pain most days.”

Thranduil nodded absentmindedly, clearly trying to recall if he (himself, not Bard) had everything he needed before he left for the day. “I’ll ask Elidyn for some balms. Perhaps that’ll lessen the pain.”

Bard watched him. “Thrand,” he said simply.

He glanced at him, hearing the human’s vague annoyance.

“You and I both know you won’t remember that as the day presses on.” He threw back the covers and sat up, grimacing when his child pressed up against his lungs. Every discomfort he felt was far too early than when he had Ellinor, but he had been assured numerous times by Thranduil that all pregnancies were different and that what he was feeling was perfectly normal. He’d strangle the next person who told him the very same thing.

Thranduil ignored the embarrassment that flamed his face. Instead he helped his husband into his trousers and tunic. The council could wait, and it was the least he could do since practically not listening to him earlier. “Where is your pain?” he asked after a while.

But Bard shook his head and gave Thranduil a soft but hurt smile. “Do not burden yourself with my troubles. Go to your meetings. I’ll be fine.”

For once in a very long while, he looked hesitant to leave Bard alone. “Are you needed in Dale?”

“I am but I cannot make the trip today,” he sighed. He glanced at the window. “Ellinor should be up in a few minutes.” He passed the elf and added (as a pretend-afterthought), “Have a nice day, dear.”

If he thought of having a nice day in, relaxing, taking this whole thing easy, he had another thing comin’. Jon had been by with very irritating news. It seemed his belly had grown another inch and he felt like he had gotten at least ten pounds heavier – which in reality was probably one. The only good event that happened that day seemed to be Ellinor’s elvish improving, learning more words… at least that’s what Legolas said when he stopped by. Bard would have words with his husband later about that as she was avoiding speaking in Human common tongue.

And now with Ellinor down for the night and the others in various spaces of the chambers, Bard retired to bed.

Thoroughly exhausted, he yanked back the duvet and climbed on the bed, soon disappearing underneath the quilt and sheets and pillows. But he had not closed his eyes for five seconds when the door slammed shut and a certain elf muttered under his breath. Something about Tauriel being stubborn, stirring up trouble, demanding her younger brother go along without argument, Legolas using his authority to let her stay in the kingdom, and that Tilda’s ankle had better stay unmended for the longest time possible because he couldn’t handle this all being more of a mess than it already was.

The human chucked a pillow in the direction of the mutters. “What in god’s name are you talking about?”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes for a fraction of a second as he had been expecting to see his husband glowering from the bed but instead he was still buried underneath the blankets. “You’d be very happy to know the pillow hit my back.”

He snorted, “Of course it did. I am a bowman. I have excellent aim.”

The elf set the pillow back on the pile and sat beside his lump of human. He found his husband’s hip then his swollen belly. “How could I forget?” he said plainly. He brought his hand up to the pillow that occasionally shifted and lifted it.

“Please, Thrand, I am tired,” he sighed. “Take your business elsewhere. I do not care to hear of your problems tonight.”

Thranduil caressed Bard’s face softly. “What happened? Why are you upset?”

“Your child has been kicking all day, and the Edoras trade deal-” He grimaced. “It fell through. They don’t want our goods. It was all for nothing.”

The elf frowned, “I thought you said you would not go to Dale.”

“That’s all you got from that?” Bard griped. He half-heartedly shoved the elf’s shoulder… when in actuality and without sitting up, he merely poked him with his finger. “No, I didn’t leave. Jon came here. Read me all that I missed.”

“My love-”

Bard sat up and leaned as best he could into his husband, the elf shifting and holding him close. He sighed heavily, “This pregnancy is so much harder than before. I just- I’m more tired… I feel like I’ve eaten too much all the time, but yet at times, I’m starving. I swear I’m gaining weight faster.” He rested his head in the crook of Thranduil’s neck. “But Elidyn says everything is normal though somehow I feel it is not.”

Thranduil shifted to inspect this matter himself but Bard held on.

He sighed in defeat then, “I must appoint Jon to do work in my stead. Bain will continue his lessons but I will no longer be able to travel to Dale as often as I have been. This is all too much for me. Damn you.”

The elf wanted to remind him that this wasn’t exactly his fault, but he had a feeling at this moment, all of this would be his fault no matter what. So he didn’t reply to that. It would be murder if he did.

“Let me examine you,” he said finally. “Elidyn might have missed something.”

But Bard wasn’t content to move just yet. “Later. Tomorrow. Just… just hold me.”

Thranduil pressed a kiss to his temple and obliged as best he could. With one arm, he kept Bard securely against him and with the other, he pulled back the covers and slid into bed. “You are truly amazing, my love. Absolutely amazing.”

He snorted, “Flattery won’t work.”

“I am not flattering you, imbecile. I am merely stating that I admire you so.”

Bard tried to turn over in protest but Thranduil refused to let him go.

“You are much stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he continued. “But now, you need rest. Lots of rest. There is no reason for you to beat yourself over something you cannot control. I shall examine you in the morning before I leave for my duties.”

He sighed weakly and closed his eyes. “I love you.”

The elf smiled. “And I you.” Then he moved his hand to their still-active unborn child. “And our little one. Hush, my child, you’re tiring your mother.”

Bard huffed to that. “Do not call me mother.”

“Yes, darling.”

 

* * *

 

“How goes the examination?” Bard asked the next day, awkwardly lying down with his belly exposed to his husband who at the moment seemed more king than husband.. hence the awkwardness. “You haven’t said a word since this all began.”

Thranduil made a noise close to a hum. “I cannot see anything Elidyn might have missed. Perhaps he has not missed anything at all.”

“Are you saying I’m making this pain up?” Bard accused.

He sat back and sighed. “No, I am not. You know I would never.” He looked torn and lost – Bard raised an eyebrow in surprise for he had never seen such uncertainty in the elf.

But yet he knew what the elf was going to say, “I am not going to see Elidyn, Thrand. I trust you, and if you say there is nothing wrong, then it is nothing. I trust you.”

Thranduil glared sharply at him. “I am not a healer. I cannot be sure.” He reached for the bowman’s coat. “We are going to Elidyn, this very minute. It would put my mind at ease if you saw him now.”

“Thranduil,” he complained.

“Please.”

Bard pursed his lips for a moment before taking the offered coat. “Very well. Rouse Ellinor from her nap, and if she’s cranky the whole time, it’s your fault.”

But Ellinor did not object to being bothered from her nap – so much so that Bard assumed it was the elf in her that kept her from making such a fuss. When they arrived at the infirmary and found Elidyn, Thranduil set her down on another cot in the room they were led to where she went back to her nap without argument.

Bard had harrumphed to that.

Now, Thranduil stood beside Bard who was lying down on the cot and accepting that he was being poked and prodded. He watched Elidyn closely, looking for any signs of something wrong with the growth of the babe. After what seemed like an eternity of getting no direct answers, Thranduil realized he couldn’t not speak. “Is he progressing well? He has been complaining of pains lately.”

Elidyn stepped away from his patient, and Bard pulled his tunic down and covered himself with the sheet. “He’s fine. Each term is different. Women carry differently and I’m sure for… erm.. enchanted pregnancies it’s the same.” He cleared his throat and willed away his embarrassment. “From what I gather, the child is showing signs of being more human than elf.”

Bard narrowed his eyes and had an insult on the tip of his tongue but Thranduil’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“So, that is all that’s wrong? The he is larger than when he was with Ellinor because the child is more human?”

“Yes, and healthy as I can tell.”

Thranduil unconsciously squeezed his husband’s shoulder. “His time is still twelve weeks away?”

Elidyn nodded. “Yes.”

Bard noticed Thranduil looked incredibly relieved- or rather, it dawned on him how tense the elf had been before they arrived. He bit his lip, worrying if Thranduil had begun to associate his newfound pain with early labor.

The squeak of the door hinges startled the three. Thranduil stood straighter and in front of Bard, attempting to shield him from the intruder’s view. And Elidyn was ready to send whoever dare to interrupt the examination away.

But the scold ready on his tongue died when he saw it was only his apprentice. “A knock next time would be sufficient, Feyra.”

She glanced at him then noticed King Thranduil and his consort. Her cheeks colored in embarrassment. “Oh, forgive me, Elidyn, Your Majesties. The lamp was dim, I thought no one was in here.” She bowed awkwardly but made her way to the shelves in the back – finishing her business there while she was in the room. She turned around – her arms full of jars of herbs and bandages.

Elidyn grew tired just looking at her. “What happened now?”

“A small brush fire just beyond our borders. Snuck up on unexpecting travelers.”

“You let them into our gates?” Elidyn scolded, annoyed that she had made a very authoritative decision without the consent or consult of the King – and especially she announcing it in front of said king.

Feyra looked scared for a moment then she glanced to Bard. “I-I- I thought that was a wish from C-Consort Bard, to open our borders for those in need. To help others. At least that is what I’ve heard from the children, Sigrid mostly.” She shifted then her face brightened. “How are they by the way? Bain and Tilda?”

Elidyn scolded her sharply for not addressing anyone by their proper title.

She looked down at her feet for a moment then straightened again, “My apologies, Your Majesties. Forgive me, I spoke out of line.”

“It is nothing, Feyra,” Thranduil heard himself say.

Bard raised his eyebrow at that – to think he truly was softening the Elvenking. Then he also added, “You’ve done so much for them, it’s not necessary for you to use their titles.”

She gave a small smile.

“And they are doing quite well,” he continued. “Tilda wishes for some visitors-”

“Ever since her father forbade her to leave the chambers,” Thranduil snorted.

His human sent him a glare that said _it’s for her own good and don’t you dare say otherwise_.

The elf cleared his throat and looked at Feyra. “As for the travelers, I am aware of my consort’s wishes, and I am pleased that they have been carried out without question.”

Feyra smiled, curtsied again and excused herself.

“My apologies for that, Your Majesty,” Elidyn sighed. “She has better manners than this.”

“It’s alright. We’re used to the unexpected,” Thranduil mused. “But on the contrary, speaking of expected, I think it’s time we return to our chambers.”

 

* * *

 

Bard smiled at Thranduil’s hand pressed to his lower back as he guided him back to their chambers. He loved it when the elf showed his affection – subtle as it may be – publicly despite knowing how uncomfortable the elf was about it.

“Are you alright? I know I dragged you out of bed so early,” Thranduil began a bit guiltily.

“It was midday. I needed to get out of bed,” he chuckled. “Besides, you are pleased to hear a second opinion from Elidyn.” He looked at his elf and stopped just in front of the door to their chambers – a familiar setting that reminded Bard of the last time he and Thranduil walked the halls together. Except his time, Thranduil was content with his lover and unborn child and not angry with Bard and the herbs used to-

He cleared his throat, pushing the memory from his mind. He smiled softly when Thranduil’s brow creased in question. He caught the elf’s hand and ran his thumb over his knuckles. “So, what do you think we will have?”

Thranduil smiled – a real smile Bard hadn’t seen on his face in public in ages. “I think it’ll be a boy.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

There was a mischievous gleam to his eyes – again, just as there was last time he and Thranduil were near their chambers. He shrugged nonchalantly and Bard had a hunch his words would be anything but. “When my wife carried Legolas, she was always in pain and irritable and moody. I am merely drawing parallels.”

He snorted. “Thanks, Thrand. Lovely to hear what you think of me.” He turned to open the door but gasped when Thranduil’s lips latched onto the back of his neck. “Thranduil,” he scolded. “What’re you doing? We’re out- we’re not even inside- again-”

The Elvenking, one hand around his husband with his palm pressed gently against his belly, ungracefully fumbled for the handle of their chambers with his other. When he spoke, Bard felt his body tingle with familiar excitement – the same sort of excitement they hadn’t had in months. “Then permit me to show you how I truly think of you in the privacy of our quarters.”

Bard’s grey eyes darkened. “Oh, you better had.”

He couldn’t remember the last time Thranduil was this hurried, but all he knew was that the elf’s hands were _everywhere_. His nimble fingers were lighting fires in sensitive places Bard forgot he had, and it seemed it would take Thranduil an entire lifetime to forget such places.

His cheeks flamed red when it dawned on him they hadn’t even looked around to see where the children were, but thankfully the two that were still recuperating were in their rooms and if the trail of toys was anything to go by, Ellinor was with Bain. But that didn’t stop his worry. “Thrand,” he managed between gasps. “They’ll hear us-”

The elf pulled away and stepped away from Bard, making the human crave his lover’s touch again. He pressed his hand to Bard’s back and led him to their room. He closed the door quietly behind them. “Satisfied?” he asked coyly.

Bard’s eyes narrowed – silently challenging him to continue with that tone. But the longer they stood there, the more they took each other in.

Admiring the way their faces were flushed with need and arousal, the way their chests heaved as if they’ve ran hundreds of miles to get there. Thranduil’s eyes drifted down to his lover’s swollen belly, licking his lips as he remembered how much he loved to have Bard beneath him. And Bard remembered the tender spot on the edge of the elf’s collarbone – he unconsciously licked his top teeth.

Thranduil stepped forward and Bard resisted in doing the same. He shivered as Thranduil’s hands ghosted over his chest as if he were simply think about undressing him and not intending to do it just yet. The human took in a breath when Thranduil backed him up, the air escaping from him as the elf pressed him onto the bed against the pillows.

He drew in a shaky breath and felt his trousers begin to tighten – and with their mend to accommodate their growing child, there wasn’t much room to begin with. He met Thranduil’s eyes and forgot how to breathe.

Like a rush of cold air, Bard remembered how much he had fallen for the Elvenking before that fateful night at the party where he had unknowingly drank the magical wine. _What would an elf want with a human?_ he recalled thinking when he was knee-deep in pining after the creature _. A human with three children, no less. A human who can barely scrape by to rebuild Dale._

And he had only been there to clarify a matter of the financial contract – he wouldn’t have shown up otherwise. Elves kept their parties to themselves, he had not been invited. But Thranduil had not been bothered by his untimely appearance and he even convinced him to stay and have a merry drink.

It would be months after when Ellinor was growing safely inside him that Thranduil revealed he himself had been too nervous to ask Bard on a proper courtship so he waited until both were tipsy but sober enough to remember their actions.

_Bard chuckled and caught Thranduil’s lips. “It seems we both fretted for nothing.”_

His husband’s teeth gently biting down on his earlobe brought Bard away from his thoughts. “Thrand.”

The elf’s hand traveled down the side of his bowman’s body, his fingers catching on the hem of his tightened tunic. He lifted it up and off Bard, his eyes shifting to the swell of their unborn child. He heard Bard’s breath catch in his throat. His eyes locked with the human’s as his fingers unlaced the man’s trousers. He watched with a devilish smirk at his husband’s nervous anticipation.

Bard gasped the moment he was free from his restraints. He shucked off his briefs but still didn’t like the look his elf had. “Thrand, don’t tease me tonight,” he pleaded. “Thrand-” He unbuttoned the elf’s tunic and threw it off his shoulders

He chuckled but nuzzled the bowman’s ear, “I won’t.”

Thranduil trailed his fingers down the side of Bard, smirking when the bowman bucked at the touch to his upper thigh. “Patience, my love.”

He let out a growl at that. “ _Thranduil_.”

He chuckled and grasped Bard’s already hard member. Bard arched beneath him, gasping and shuddering – his lover’s touch felt like fire. He was caught between whimpering and grunting as the elf worked him to a needy mess.

“Thrand, I can’t,” he panted. He pulled at the elf’s blond hair. “Pl-please,” he groaned. “Please, I need you.”

Thranduil grunted and reached blindly for the lube, one hand still working his pregnant mate. He smelled their sweet lube and smiled at the memories it carried – most of which had his human raw and undone beneath him.

Tonight would be no different.

With his lover on his side, pillows supporting him, Thranduil lined up with his entrance. His heart stuttered when he heard Bard’s throaty moan. He caught his lips quickly, hoping to capture what was left of that sweet sound. The bowman ground against him – clearly impatient for things to begin.

Bard followed his husband’s lips even as the elf pulled away. “ _What_?” he asked breathlessly and frustratingly.

“If it’s too much, tell me to stop and I will.” Thranduil wanted to make sure he understood their same rules still applied. “My love?”

Bard nodded shakily, quickly, impatiently. “Alright. Just continue. Please,” he hoarsely gasped.

He gripped onto the elf’s broad shoulders and moaned at the smooth thrust, pulling his husband as close as they could be. He forgot how wonderful Thranduil could make him feel.

But he would relish in the feeling of his husband so connected with him again for who knows how long.

He grunted and met his thrusts - his eyes sliding shut as he and his lover climbed their way to release.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven weeks to go – everyone’s starting to feel the change…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back!
> 
> What happened you may ask? Well, I’ll tell you >>
> 
> See, I wrote out the beginning of this chapter, somewhere, somehow, on one of my many documents. While I was editing another story, somehow, some way, what I had written for this one got deleted -_- So I was pretty mad when I realized that… so I didn’t want to talk to this story for a while… hence the looooooooooong absence, that and I was trying to remember what I wrote for the beginning.
> 
> And school – I had school :( can't forget school
> 
> Anyway, I continued writing a little bit before Christmas but the characters were being difficult (you'll probably see which parts they were being stubborn with).
> 
> And now, finally, finally! I have updated! Woohoo!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

It wasn’t the first time that the thought crossed his mind that afternoon, how he shouldn’t have made the trip to Dale (especially so early in the morning), how he should have shown that he truly trusted Jon and stayed in the Realm, but it was the first time that day that he was honestly going to do something about it.

Then the knock at his door made him slump more in the chair. “Come in,” he called.

“Ah, Bard-” Jon greeted then he paused. “.. are you alright?”

The other made a halfhearted attempt at sitting upright. “I’m fine. Have you got any news?”

“Not yet,” he sighed. “I believe I’m onto a solution with the dwarves but after more inquiry, I’ll be able to give you an answer.”

Bard gave a tired smile. “Excellent.” He glanced around Jon. “Where is my son?”

Jon chuckled. “Oh, he’s looming over Amy Ferryday’s fence again.”

He shook his head. “Both he and Tilda were most unfortunately cleared by the healer. It seems they never learn from their mistakes.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “And how many times did you break your ankle jumping down from _her_ window?”

Bard grumbled good-naturedly. “Must you bring it up. You make it sound as if Bain’s mischief is my own doing.”

“It is,” he laughed.

“Well it isn’t,” he argued lightly. “And I didn’t break my ankle; I sprained it. Seven times- but the number is not important,” he harrumphed over Jon’s laugh. “Have a good day, Jon, and- thank you.”

Jon chuckled again and nodded. “You’re most welcome, my lord.”

Bard gave a sigh of defeat – he should definitely get going.

And Bain, oh Bain.

Bain was still as lovestruck as ever, leaning over the fence of Amy Ferryday’s house when Bard finally descended the steps. He tsked at the boy who reminded him so much of himself when he was courting – or trying to court – Ingrid.

The sun was directly overhead and Bard sighed tiredly, already winded from his journey downstairs. Yes, he most certainly should have never came to Dale. He had been foolish as usual and Thranduil would surely repeat it to him throughout the day. “Bain!” he called.

He still had crates to transport to the Realm – cheese made from cows and the fresh berries that grew around the city were traded for vegetables and wine that the elves had. He could usually manage all six boxes by himself but given the state of things, he knew it was not worth it to take such a risk.

But his son hadn’t heard him in the slightest. “Bain!” he called again.

He sighed and went to the stables where he fetched his white mare. He hitched her up to the wagon and looked down the lane where Bain was still so enthralled. “Bain Bardling, get over here!”

The young teen was startled and his foot slipped. He fell back and landed on his bottom. He quickly stood up and brushed himself off, also brushing off the situation his father had caught him in.

“Having fun?” Bard chuckled when his son finally caught up.

His cheeks reddened. “Sorry, Da.” He watched his father stand beside a crate. “Da, I can do it,” he said, lifting the box before his father could. He gave a small smile. “You get onto the wagon. I’ll get the rest.”

Bard gently cupped his cheek – proud of the young man his son was becoming – and smiled and nodded. “I suppose I should.”

* * *

Thranduil’s closed-off face was the first thing he saw when the wagon pulled through the gates. To anyone else, the Elvenking seemed to be his usual self, but to Bard, the elf was livid.

He swallowed and grew nervous as the wagon drew closer and closer then came to a halt. His heart plummeted as he knew what Thranduil thought of appearances and how they must be kept. The elf crossed the path and offered his hand to his consort. Bard took a breath and accepted the offered hand and let the elf help him from the carriage. Once on the ground, he chanced a glance up at him. “Thrand-”

“Jon arrived an hour ago,” he interrupted, his voice steely. “He came from Dale. I thought you’d be with him.”

“Oh.” He felt his heart ache at the news and the panic his husband surely must have felt when he had not been with Jon. “I-I had no idea he was coming here.” He looked at him and shook his head, “I can’t imagine the worry you’ve felt.”

“Yes, I feared something had happened on the road.” His voice was still tense and guarded.

Though he knew it had been out of his control, Bard still felt he should apologize. “I’m sorry to have caused you pain.”

“Doesn’t matter now, you’re here.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw his adoptive son stretching to reach the boxes in back of the carriage. “Bain, leave those, you’re wanted in the kitchens with your sister, for whatever absurd mischief you lot get into,” he tsked.

“Sigrid?” he asked, a touch of excitement in his voice.

“Yes, now go.”

And he bounded off with a wide grin.

Bard’s fingers found the delicate sequins of his husband’s robes. It was a faint attempt at easing the elf’s mood. “Thrand-”

“Jon has called a council. He’s brought news of the dwarves. My kin are not pleased. They believe he wishes for me to join the cause of Men.”

“Please, I honestly had no idea he’d return here to speak with me. I thought I wouldn’t see him for another week-”

The elf’s features seemed to tighten further at that. “You shouldn’t have been in Dale in the first place. Time and time again, I catch you going against my wishes. Have you no sense for our unborn child?” He shook his head as Bard opened his mouth to protest. “I don’t care what you say, it is dangerous to be on the road in your condition!”

“Bain was there-” he tried.

His blue eyes were steely. “I admire your faith in your son but what if there are more than two attackers? No, I will not be just content with Bain to protect you.”

“Thrand-”

“This conversation is over. Come,” he said, heading for the council room.

Bard swallowed nervously and glanced at the elf – his face was still hard and unreadable, his mouth in a tight thin line. He truly wondered if this would be the last time Thranduil ever spoke to him. He knew he shouldn’t have gone to Dale – gosh, it just seemed like he wasn’t getting anything right with this second pregnancy. Of course now, he regretted it greatly and hoped his selfish actions didn’t break the wafer-thin trust his husband surely had in him. He sighed weakly.

But his heart stirred when he felt Thranduil’s hand settle against the curve of his spine, his fingers gently- minutely squeezing him. There was still hope the elf would speak to him again.

*.*.*

They were the last to enter the council room. Bard cleared his throat and tried not to focus too much on the prying eyes of the elves as he took his seat at one end of the table. He knew many of them saw his pregnancy as anything but natural. It had been easier with Ellinor because many were still recovering and rejoicing after the Battle – they had no time to berate the unnatural. But with this new one, he knew many of them had spoken about him behind their king’s back, and he knew those same were not afraid to be overheard by him for he had no direct power over them unlike Thranduil.

It wasn’t as bad as it seemed to be. He had a few friends among these creatures, but unfortunately at this moment, he knew his husband was not one of them.

He glanced at said elf across the table who did not look as angry as he had been. He turned to Jon. “You have news?”

Jon nodded greatly, looking both anxious and excited. “As I told you before I left, I had said there would need to be more inquiry with the dwarves before a solution could be agreed upon.”

Bard gave a nod at the slight pause.

“Well, it seemed the same thing was on my trusted negotiator’s mind because the moment I entered Erebor’s borders, he came to me and said the loan was within our reach.”

Bard frowned a little. This all seemed too good to be true. “Who is this negotiator?”

Jon waved his hand. “He’s close to King Thorin and has promised to deliver. I have agreed not to reveal his name to anyone who asks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not even your own king?”

“I apologize, sir.”

An elf somewhere around the table snorted out a chuckle. “ _Can’t even hold the respect of his subject_ ,” he said, speaking in his native tongue.

Bard looked at him. Thranduil had taught him the basics of their language, and he had understood three words and he could pretty much figure out the rest. “If I require an opinion, Fyhar, I will ask for it,” he said stiffly.

The elf’s eyes hardened and he opened his mouth to retort.

“Insults against the Consort are insults against your king,” Thranduil interrupted. “I would think before you speak, Fyhar.”

Bard watched the elf sober up quickly and apologize to his king for interrupting. He cast a quick and grateful glance at Thranduil whose blue eyes held a hint of fondness. He turned back to Jon. “What were your negotiator’s conditions?”

“That the loan stands for three months.” Jon shook his head, “That was the maximum time he could manage.”

“Thorin Oakenshield is a very stubborn man,” Bard said. “What will this loan do for us?”

“Not much. I have looked and looked through our logs, and it will cover one-sixteenth of the funds we need. And in those three months, we’d be able to only pay our suppliers, but the rebuilding would have to be done during the following three months.”

Bard felt a head lodge under his lungs and he shifted, barely concealing a grimace. “This negotiator say anything else?” he said, his voice a little tight.

“He said King Thorin can be persuaded to extend the loan. Keep the humans out of his kingdom for a longer period of time. It’ll be a perfect sell. But we must ride to Erebor. He will not take councilmen.”

Bard nodded for it sounded like a concrete plan, but he knew Elidyn would never allow him to leave the Realm on a perilous journey then be among those barbaric dwarves (the elves’ words, not his) and then face the journey home with the size he already was. It had been just enough that Thranduil didn’t send out his whole army to Dale just to bring him back, but he was sure if he left again, the Elvenking would do just that.

No. He could practically hear the everyone’s firm refusal.

Elidyn cleared his throat and Bard glanced across the table to Thranduil who reluctantly met his gaze, understanding what must be done instead. Grey eyes prompted a plea. He looked at Jon again. “That is extraordinary news, Jon, however I cannot make the trip.” He looked to his husband again whose blue eyes were firm but relenting.

“I will go in his stead,” Thranduil announced.

His kin groaned.

“I will be going on behalf of the men not the elves,” he emphasized. “Besides, it could do some good to have a familiar face in Erebor.”

“Let’s hope they see it the same, and not turn us away in accusation that we did not come to their aid in a time of need,” he countered smoothly.

The elves around gasped and muttered under their breath while Bard cleared his throat to cover his chuckle. He nearly couldn’t hide his mirth when Thranduil sent him a glare.

“Is that- is that all you wished to speak about?” he asked Jon instead.

“Yes, sir,” he nodded.

“Everyone is dismissed,” Thranduil spoke, watching curiously when nearly all the elves filed out quickly muttering fiercely about it all being a waste of their time. He knew calling more than five of his councilmen was unnecessary, but it was satisfying for the king due to the whispers he had been hearing concerning Bard behind his back.

Bard stood and shook Jon’s hand. “I apologize I am not able to make the trip,” he sighed. “You can trust Thranduil will see things done for my part.”

Jon gave a firm nod. “Of course, Bard. Rest easy.”

He managed a smile at that. “Thank you.”

“Linyr will see you out,” Thranduil bade, nodding to the guard at the door. He stepped toward Bard and watched the two leave. He gently grasped the man’s elbow, leading him from the council room to the halls. “You are returning to our quarters.”

Bard could tell he was still angry with him despite his generosity during the meeting. “Thranduil-”

“You are to rest for the remainder of the week,” he interrupted. “It’ll put my mind at ease to know you’re safely in our chambers. You’ve been too busy the past few days. I kept my mouth shut about it, but I can no longer do so. My greatest fear is that you will drive yourself to exhaustion, endangering the yourself and the babe.”

He felt ashamed that he didn’t think of that possibility. “I… I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“No, you were not thinking,” he agreed tersely. “Jon has proved himself to be a capable man. You have already handed over leadership to him. Let him excel on his own. You do not need to continue to be there.”

Bard sighed helplessly, “I know, I just loathe to be locked indoors. I was a bargeman for most of my life. I know it’s been two years and I should be used to being here,” he argued going off of the elf’s look, “but I can’t-”

Thranduil stopped walking and pulled him into an empty corridor. “Bard, listen to me, if anything were to happen to either of you- _anything_ \- and _I_ could have prevented it, I would never forgive myself.”

He watched his lover’s eyes darken as if he were remembering a dreadful memory. He gently caressed the elf’s jawline. “This time I promise you, I won’t be so selfish and rash-”

The elf’s hand found Bard’s lapel and held it softly. “Mean it this time, Bard. I would hate to use my power against my own consort.”

It was a tall order to fill – staying in the chambers for the week and possibly the entire month if he slipped up. He gave a sigh and nodded. “I do, my love, I promise.”

Soon but not soon enough they were at the doors. Thranduil softly squeezed his shoulder – the only sort of parting gift Bard would get until the elf returned to their chambers for good that night. He offered a small smile and Bard closed the door behind him.

He leaned back on the wood and ignored the tear that escaped his eye.

* * *

Bard opened the door at approximately the fifth knock. “Legolas,” he greeted more in surprise. He opened the door further to let the elf in.  “Your father send you to watch me?” he guessed.

Legolas chuckled. “No, he did not. I haven’t seen him all day. I came here to fetch Tilda. Feyra said she was good to go and Linyr was just relieved from his post. He wanted to go out on a run.” He looked at the miserable human. “My father preventing you from leaving the quarters?”

“Of course,” he just about griped. He hadn’t been too bored and dejected sitting here, watching Ellie, watching Tilda so cringingly try out her healed ankle. He had only gotten bored in the past hour since Ellie was down for her nap and Tilda was hyper-ly getting ready for her first day back.

The blond studied him. “You must know,” he began carefully.

“I must know what?” Bard frowned. He heard the change in the elf’s voice.

“About my mother- I mean, what happened to her.”

The only thing that crossed his mind was her death, but Legolas knew he already knew of it. “No, I do not. Pray tell what is that?”

He looked a bit reluctant at the start but felt it was for the best Bard finally be told the truth. “She was going to have another child,” he revealed. “But my father had to leave for council a month before she was due. He was gone when she went into labor.” Legolas sighed, “She lost the child. My father was convinced if he had not left, the babe would have lived.”

The distance that entered Thranduil’s eyes when he was pleading to Bard to not leave came back at him full force. He suddenly felt overwhelming guilt at worrying his caring husband. His chest started to ache at the pain that his husband endured in the past and had surely endured over his own recklessness. He let go of a sigh – he shouldn’t have been – and he shouldn’t be – too hard on the elf.

Legolas continued, not realizing the sensitivity of the subject. “Elidyn said the babe was under stress and twisted and turned, tangling within her-”

Bard cleared his throat sharply, not wishing to hear the end even though a very clear picture was forming in his mind. His heart clenched at the image of a distressed Thranduil looking broken and helpless upon his wife and dead child. He needed to sit down.

Legolas silently cursed himself – very ashamed having kept on without thinking. “I shouldn’t have, Bard. Are- are you alright?” His own father would truly never forgive him if his consort fell ill in his presence. “Should I send for him?”

Bard realized he was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking. “No, I’m fine. Just… just give me a moment.”

The elf prince shifted nervously. “I didn’t mean to bring it up-”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Legolas waited a long moment before speaking again, and this time he thought before he spoke. “It’s just… he keeps you under lock and key because he doesn’t want to lose you. He’s afraid that if he does you even the slightest bit of wrong, he’ll lose you both.”

Bard sighed heavily. Sitting alone with his thoughts, he had some time to truly think about his elf’s request, and it wasn’t as far-fetched as Bard had conjured it up to be. “I suppose now I can’t really blame him. He always shows the world he’s immune to emotions.”

Legolas offered a smile. “Isn’t that the truth.”

He let out a great sigh and rubbed his swollen belly – his babe’s movement comforting him and ridding his mind of that awful image. “I’m- I’m fine now.”

Then a young brunette bounded in barely stopping in time before running into Legolas. “Da! Da! Da! Da!” she squealed excitedly. “Da!”

It took much out of him to give her a soft smile. “Yes, my love?” he asked.

“Oh, don’t be so upset, Da,” she grinned. She bounced on the balls of her feet. “But this is the first time Linyr and I get to go to Dale and- and- sell ice lollies! Oh, please, Da! Feyra said I was good as new again! Can I? Can I? Can I?”

He chuckled. “As long as you are back before it gets too dark.”

“Of course! Of course! Of course!” she squeaked. She hugged him tightly and smooshed a kiss to his cheek before taking off for the door. She grabbed her coat off the hanger. “Bye, Da!”

Legolas gave Bard a curt nod before following her.

But she skidded to a stop and made a u-turn before scampering in the room once more. She hopped to the seat where Bard was sitting and kissed the top of his belly. “Bye, Baby!”

Bard smiled tenderly and chuckled fondly.

*.*.*

Legolas managed not to cover his ears when Tilda squealed again. She squealed even more as she ran across the courtyard to Linyr who already had their wagon of ice lollies ready to go. The older elf cleared his throat to cover up his sudden laugh when Tilda zoomed right past Linyr and straight to the horse.

“Oh I missed you, Miss Eilis!” She hugged the mare’s neck and then turned to a very annoyed Linyr. “Oh, Linyr! I didn’t see you there! Hi!” she grinned widely before throwing her arms around him.

But the elf griped at her lie. “Sure you didn’t see me.”

She pulled back and pouted. “Don’t be mean, Lin. Miss Eilis and I have some great memories too, you know.” She turned around to the other elf. “Are you coming with us, Leggy?” she asked with a wide grin knowing he was not a fan of the nickname. “We could use the extra help!”

He smiled kindly. “No, there are other things that I must get to.”

“Oh,” and she sort of drooped.

“But I’m sure I can make another trip,” he assured. He walked the two to the gates. “You two have fun and be careful. And remember what your dad said.”

She feigned annoyance for a small moment before nodding. “Of course, my dear Leggy.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. He closed the gates behind them.

*.*.*

Tauriel stood from the tallest tower in the Realm watching her brother and that brat of a human drag their stupid ice lolly wagon through the woods toward Dale. She scowled fiercely as they joked and teased each other, the human jumping about and not knowing how to walk calmly.

Legolas cleared his throat.

“You’re late,” she scolded, folding her arms across her chest.

“Had to see them out,” he said. “It’s the least I could do.”

She sneered.

He sighed – tired of the same conversation with her. “He has duties here,” he said, echoing his father’s words.

“With that _human_?”

“Yes, the one you pushed down the steps several weeks ago.” He stepped up to her so they were shoulder to shoulder. “Just today she was finally confirmed healed.”

“I can see that,” she griped. The moment of silence that followed was short-lived. She seethed at the fading figures of the two creatures. “Going to Dale, no doubt.”

“To give to the children, especially those who cannot afford such treats.”

“I know,” she snapped. “But with a _human_. He can do many great deeds on his _own_.”     

“She is the daughter of my father’s consort-”

She interrupted him. “Why has he married such a human? He is so cold at the mention of your mother- how can he have another relationship much less with _them_ -”

Legolas didn’t like the way _them_ rolled off her tongue with such hatred and disgust. He had tolerated her use of the word ‘human’ because in a sense, she was discussing all humans, but ‘them’ concerned those he considered family. But he hesitated in revealing fully why his father had done such a thing. “There was a matter of wine- an incident of sorts, and it would be indecent not to marry.”

She huffed but didn’t say anything.

“He is a nice man, in fact, he is the king of Dale.”

“Then why isn’t he there?” she retorted.

“Why must you be so against them?” he grunted, inching his way to finally having enough of her attitude. “They are my family too.”

“ _Your_ family? Since when did you turn your back on our kin?”

“ _Tauriel_ ,” he said sharply.

She pushed past him and started down the corridor to the stairwell.

“My father says you cannot stay here anymore,” he said. He narrowed his eyes in warning when she swiveled around and looked at him. “Don’t give me that look. It was by my authority that you were even allowed in the kingdom. I’ve done what I can in allowing it, but I can no longer-”

“Linyr is coming with me,” she fought back.

“Your brother has said his peace already,” he reminded her. “You know he wants to stay.”

“We’re _family_.”

Legolas chuckled darkly. “You don’t act like it.”

“You really think you are the right person to give me a lecture on ‘family’? You? The person whose father never gave you any love, especially after your mother died-”

His patience and his temper snapped. “Get out.”

She stopped talking suddenly. “What?”

His blue eyes were dangerous. “Get out. _Leave_ , Tauriel.” He shook his head and started for the stairs angrily, passing her. “You’re not wanted here. You never were. I thought I cared for you, but it was a childish crush.” He gave her one last leveled glare. “Leave the realm by dawn.”

“Legolas,” she tried in vain, her voice going soft and innocent.

“Do not make me send you out in darkness,” he growled. He descended the steps and never looked back.

*.*.*

Tilda started up the large stone – excited and giddy that she was finally free from her impromptu prison sentence due to her ankle.

“Hey! Wait, no!” Linyr followed. “You fall and break your ankle, I get in trouble. I’m finally getting my foothold in the guard, and returning with you limping is going to get a me a sure demotion.”

She let out a brief cackle but jumped from the stone. “Fine, but just because you’re so nice, Linny, I’ll stay down here.”

He snorted.

She laughed and continued to walk along the riverbank. Silence settled between them for a long while. Miss Eilis was grazing by the river and Linyr was inspecting a leak in the icebox. She threw rocks into the water, trying and mostly failing to skip them. She glanced up at the sudden curse of a pinched finger.

“Are you going to leave?” she asked quietly.

He briefly looked up from his throbbing thumb. “With my sister?”

She nodded.

“No, I’m not,” he replied. He went back to repairing the slight hole in the box.

“Why? Sounds like a free life out there.”

He gave a short laugh. “I dunno about that. I think it’s better here – more options, more people, more friends. Besides, she was never around when I grew up. Rising in rank was always more important. She only came home when she remembered she had a family. This’ll be the first time she doesn’t get what she wants.”

She beamed almost instantly. “So, we’re still going to be selling ice lollies?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, we are.”

“Forever and ever?” she teased.

“Forever and ever,” he grinned, tossing a fistful of ice at her.

*.*.*

Depending on who you ask, the day either went by fast or not fast enough. For Thranduil, they were not fast enough – but as king, when did his days pass by quickly.

He sighed heavily and closed the chamber door behind him… and he frowned when his husband was nowhere in sight. He glanced toward the girls’ room and saw Ellie was in her crib.

“Where’s Da?” he asked her, smiling as she was patiently waiting for someone to remember she was there. He smiled when she stood shakily and outstretched her arms to him. He picked her up. “Huh? Where’s your da?”

“Da,” she repeated with a toothy grin. Her fingers grappled her father’s blond hair and she kissed his cheek when she succeeded getting a fistful. “A-da.”

“I love you too, little one,” he beamed.

As she grew, he noticed she mostly took after Bard – brown hair, grey eyes, his smile – with the exception of her finely pointed ears and her marvelous, marvelous eyebrows. She would be a right beauty when she grew up. He and Bard better be prepared for a mountain of suitors after her hand. He smiled and kissed her temple. “Let’s go find Da, shall we?”

And they started and stopped at the bedroom. He knocked on the doorway and Bard turned over and made a groggy groan at the sound. “Thrand. You’re home.”

The elf chuckled softly. He set Ellie down on the bed – where she quickly reached for the green ribbon sitting on the bedside table – and tenderly caressed the side of his husband’s face. “How are you feeling?”

He stretched out and looked at their child who was content playing with the ribbon. “Horrible for oversleeping and forgetting about our daughter,” he sighed miserably. “Oh, you must think me an awful father – along with being an awful husband.” He added the last bit in order to test the waters of what happened earlier.

Thranduil let out a sigh of his own and sat on the bed. “I do not think anything of the sort.” He offered a sad smile. “I am sorry for my behavior earlier.” He seemed to struggle for the right words. “I-I- I do still wish for you to be outside, getting some fresh air, but I don’t think I can no longer handle you being outside the Realm. I loathe to feel the same fear I felt when you had not been with Jon earlier. I shouldn’t have been so callous toward you. Please forgive me.”

“You must believe me when I say I had no idea Jon was coming here,” he repeated.

“I know, I do. I shouldn’t have snapped, I shouldn’t have blamed you-” He ran a hand over his face.

“Legolas told me what happened with your wife and your second son,” Bard revealed, taking a chance with it.

Thranduil turned his head away and his shoulders grew tense.

But Bard covered his lover’s hand with his own. “The same will not happen to us,” he assured. “Not if I have a say in it.”

The Elvenking looked at him and cracked a smile that grew into one of love. He leaned forward to show his husband his gratefulness when there was a sudden commotion in the common room.

He chuckled. “I think they’ve all returned.”

“I think so too.” Thranduil lifted Ellinor from her blanket cove. “Come, my love, let’s go see what mischief your brother and sisters are up to now.”

“Bin!” she greeted immediately.

He smiled as she had taken to her brother more than her sisters, so it wasn’t a surprise – but still painstakingly adorable – when she squealed when she spotted him.

The young teen went up to her with a great big grin on his face. “Hi Ellie!” He took her from his ada. “Come on, Sigrid and I made you something.”

“And Tilda helped,” Tilda put in, bouncing on the balls of her feet at the other side of the table.

He snorted, “You weren’t even in the kitchens.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Tilda,” Thranduil said sternly. But he couldn’t give her much of a glare as a figure emerged from the bedroom.

“What’s all this?” the bowman asked in surprise especially when his two eldest turned around sharply and blocked something on the dining table with huge grins.

Brother and sister simply shrugged. “Well, we never got the chance of giving Ellie a proper birthday celebration so we decided now- today would be the perfect day!”

“Ah,” he grinned. He swiped some white powder off of Bain’s nose. “Is that why you’re covered in flour?”

His son reddened with embarrassment.

Thranduil took that as his cue to inspect a very handmade-looking cake. He clicked his tongue. “You’ve forgotten Elidyn has given your Da strict orders not to have too many sweets,” he reminded. “Now, you’ve made a cake and he can only have a small slice of-” But Sigrid’s wide grin cut him off. “What?”

She reached for something else on the table and turned around with a smaller cake. “We didn’t forget. And we even got Elidyn’s approval for the recipe,” she beamed. She set the plate in front of her father. “This cake is just for you, Da.”

The Elvenking was at the cake quicker than the bowman, but the cake was pulled away from his finger as he went to swipe up a bit of frosting.

“It’s mine, didn’t you hear?” he teased. He smiled fondly at his two eldest. “Thank you, both.” He swiped up some frosting and made a noise of content. “It is and will be very much appreciated.”

“In moderation,” the elf warned.

"Yes dear," he mocked.

"Come on, Ellie!" Tilda encouraged, trying to get the toddler to put her hands onto the cake.

"She's too much of an elf to do that," Bard chuckled. "Too dainty."

Thranduil snorted. "Elves are not dainty. However, she's a lady and kindly keeping her manners."

But the abrupt cheer from the other three interrupted and confirmed that Ellinor was still part human. 

Her hands and mouth were covered in frosting, and if her face was anything to go by, she truly loved it.

"In moderation," Thranduil warned.

"Yes Ada," the three chorused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry about that Erebor negotiator – he’s legit ;) and will be revealing himself in Ch11
> 
> *It randomly occurred to me if anyone was curious how to pronounce Linyr (I mean not that I’m elvish or a pro at it) but like I pronounce it “Li-neer”, but if y’all are elvish language experts and the “y” is a lower(?) [I am also failing to remember English class] “i”, then by all means, pronounce it that way xD it just weirdly crossed my mind when I was writing
> 
> See ya for the next chapter!


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